


Lasting Mistakes

by OfficialStarsandGutters



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Hipster Jim, M/M, Punk Sebastian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 01:13:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5271008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficialStarsandGutters/pseuds/OfficialStarsandGutters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr Prompt: Have it both ways: Tattoo! AU Mormor - One ruins the other's tattoo.<br/>Dreams may only last for a night, but tattoos last for a lifetime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lasting Mistakes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seazu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seazu/gifts).



**Sebastian**

It's a truly awful idea. Jim is vaguely aware of that as he fumbles with the keys to the studio, almost drops them, manages to catch the circle of the key fob with his index finger, flicks them back into his palm, and proceeds to aggressively stab at the keyhole. On his fourth try the key slides in. Beneath the glow of the street lights, Sebastian cheers.

They stumble into the hallway and up the stairs, dripping water as they go. Sebastian's Mohawk has fallen flat, wet strands of it clinging to his forehead, falling over his eyes. Lines of water run from his hair down his face. Jim's fringe is in a similar state, but he drags a hand back through his hair, uses the rain water to slick it in place.

“You should tattoo me right now,” Sebastian had said, inspired.

This was following two JD and Cokes each and a shared bottle of tequila, which is the reason it is such a bad idea, and also the reason Jim had grinned widely in response and said: “Let me get the studio keys.”

The had staggered through the pouring rain, with frequent stops for Sebastian to kiss Jim hard against various objects; a phone box, a tree, the window of McDonalds (complete with cheers from a group of teens within, and one aggressive cry of _faggots_ to which Sebastian had jollily responded with his middle finger without breaking the kiss). Their laughter trailed in the air behind them, and now here they are, Jim setting up his needle as Sebastian peels off his soaked t-shirt.

He sits back in the chair, patting his lap. Jim giggles, crawling (falling, mostly) into it and kissing Sebastian, firm but sloppy. The needle buzzes. They both laugh. Jim moves back, comfortably straddling Sebastian's thighs. He wipes down the left side of his chest with a little alcohol soaked cotton bud. Sebastian watches him with hooded eyes.

“You look like you're about to have a good fuck,” Jim says.

“Maybe later.” Sebastian smirks.

“Are you sure about this?” A brief moment of sobriety prompts Jim to ask.

“Positive. I want you with me all the time.”

Jim rolls his eyes, but then he rolls the sleeves of his oversized jumper up. The needle buzzes to life again.

“Here we go, then.”

*

Sebastian wakes next the morning to a thumping headache, a serious case of dry mouth, Jim's drool drying on his right shoulder, and a dull burn on the left side of his chest. It is a lot to take in at 7.24am. He keeps his eyes closed for several long moments, taking a few deep breaths to try and rid himself of the vague nausea in the pit of his stomach. When he forces them open, they are sticky with sleep grit, and he has to rub them before he can look down.

Jim is asleep on his shoulder. His lips are parted, each breath puffing against the base of Sebastian's throat, and a small line of saliva is leaking from the corner of them. It should be disgusting, but he only finds it endearing. The other side is a little less endearing. Still an angry red, with dried blood smeared over it, is a mess of dark ink lines. He has a vague memory of Jim dragging nails down over the fresh ink as Sebastian fucked him into the chair in his studio, of the pain bursting like fire that at the time had only made it more fucking hot.

Not exactly the best after care.

He slides out from beneath Jim, leaving him to nuzzle into the pillows. His first stop is the kitchen, where he downs three pints of cold water. Then he spends what feels like two straight minutes pissing a long, strong stream that would be the envy of a horse. Finally, he has the chance to properly examine his new tattoo in the bathroom mirror. Once he has cleaned away the excess blood, he can make out the shape within the mess of lines.

“Oh God.” Jim appears in the doorway. His hair is sticking every which way. His eyes are red rimmed from lack of sleep. He grinds his palm against them. “Tell me that washes off.”

“Nope.” Sebastian pokes his fingers against the still tender lines, hissing at the sting.

“Fuck.” Jim plods, barefoot and clad only in pants, across the bathroom floor. He looks at Sebastian's reflection for several seconds, before circling round to examine his handiwork closer.

“Not exactly your best work.”

“It's awful.” Jim looks completely appalled, and Sebastian can practically feel the self criticism happening inside his head.

“It's not that bad.”

“It's like some terrible clash of the impressionists and Egon Schiele.”

“I thought you liked Egon Schiele.”

“Not for tattoos,” Jim hisses, and then he covers his mouth before making a dive towards the toilet. Sebastian rubs his back as he throws up. Why do they always think tequila is a good idea?

“I like it,” he says, once Jim is done emptying his stomach.

“Ugh.” Jim gives him the dirtiest look he can manage in his current position. “I can design a cover up for it.”

“I don't want one.”

“Sebastian, it's hideous.”

“No. It's unique.” Sebastian smiles, brushing his fingers fondly over the tiny, scribble Jim that now resides on his chest. “One of a kind.”

“You can't be serious.” Safe in the knowledge he's not going to vomit again, Jim flushes and moves to brush his teeth. Sebastian follows him, admiring his tattoo in the mirror all over again.

“I am.” It is not what he wanted. Although, he's not sure if he really wanted to wake up to a picture perfect portrait of Jim on his body either. But it has character, and he can make Jim out within the lines, can see how it is meant to be him. Even with the scribbles and roughness of it, it's still Jim, and he appreciates it more because it's not perfect. “And it comes with a story.”

“I still think you should get it covered.”

“No. I'm keeping it.” Sebastian smiles, curling an arm around Jim's waist. He loosens his hold when Jim has to fight back a heave, and presses a kiss to his neck. “Thank you.”

“Whatever,” Jim says, toothpaste dripping from his lower lip like he's rabid. He spits angrily into the sink. “Piss off so I can piss.”

“Of course,” Sebastian says, heading back to bedroom. He applies Bepanthen to his chest while he waits, smiling as his fingers trace the messy outline of Jim's newest claim on him.

 

* * *

 

**Jim**

“Ta-dah!” Sebastian poses like one of those bikini clad women in game shows displaying the prizes. He waggles his hands at the full length mirror in his studio room. “What do you think?”

Jim rises from the table and looks over his shoulder. Sebastian can tell almost instantly by the expression on his face that he's not happy.

“Shit. You don't like it.”

“It's facing the wrong way.”

“What?”

“It's facing. The wrong. Way.”

“Shit. No. I checked with you before-”

“Then you must have done the stencil wrong.”

“Noooo.”

Jim pulls out his phone, stabbing angrily at it until he pulls up the image of the constellation Sebastian was tattooing on his shoulder. Sebastian looks from the dots on Jim's back, to the stencil sheet abandoned by the table. His face falls.

“Shit. Well, I can fix that-”

“No. You can't. It is specifically meant to face that direction, because that's how it sits in the sky, and in regards to the other constellations that I already have. Now it's just wrong.” Jim voice is low and dangerous. He is very still and very quiet, and that is how Sebastian knows he has fucked up big time.

“I'm so sorry-”

“No. It's obviously my fault, for trusting you with this. I mean, you've done it enough times, I didn't think it would be a difficult feat for you. I'll know in future to never let you touch me without triple checking the stencil first.”

“I can get you a cover up or something sorted, and there's no charge-”

“Oh, how very generous! As if I would pay for you to desecrate me.” Jim reaches for his galaxy print sweater, pulling it roughly over his head.

“I should put cling film-”

“I don't care. It can't get much worse than it already is, can it?”

“Jim.”

“No. Don't.” Jim steps right up to his chest, and Sebastian is convinced he is going to slap him. But all Jim does is stare at him with dark, angry eyes, before shaking his head. “I can't even look at you right now.”

He grabs his satchel and leaves without another word. All Sebastian can do is watch.

*

**1 New Voicemail:**

I fucked up, I get it. I understand how important it is when you choose something to go on your body, but I can't do anything to make it up to you if you're just going to block me out. Please. Just pick up the fucking phone, Jim. I'm not going to stop calling until you do.

**3 Missed Calls**

Sebastian [22.04]

**1 New Message:**

_Please talk to me._ [20.07]

**5 Missed Calls**

Sebastian [18.54]

**2 New Messages:**

_Jim._ [18.38]

 _I am really sorry. I fucked up. Let me try and fix it._ [18.25]

*

Incoming call: Sebastian.

Ring ring. Ring ring. Ring-

“Jim! Don't hang up. Look, I'm really, genuinely sorry.”

“So you've said.” Jim's tone is completely devoid of emotion. Sebastian feels a bolt of cold in his stomach.

“I know! But-”

“Stop harassing me, Sebastian.”

“Just, give me two minutes.”

“You have one.”

“Shit. Okay. Well, I have this friend, and he got an awful tattoo when he was drunk in Magaluf. Fucking idiot- But anyway, it was awful, so he got it removed when he got back, and it just completely cleared it. Like it never existed. And, well, I got the name of the place from him, and I was thinking we could just get it removed – I'd pay, obviously – and then I could take you to get it done properly. By someone who is not me, as I'm aware I've lost all trust.”

“Do you know what that was?”

“What?”

“The tattoo. Do you know what it was?”

“Uh. A constellation.”

“Specifically.” Sebastian is silent, so Jim proceeds. “It was Sagittarius.”

“Oh.”

“Sagittarius is beside Scorpius in the sky. His arrow is aiming at the red star in the centre of Scorpius, what is often referred to as Scorpius' heart.”

“Jim-”

“I mean, it made sense for me to get it anyway. I already have Scorpius. As I said, they're beside each other. It would just have had an extra purpose.” He doesn't say it in so many words, but Sebastian can read between the lines. That tattoo was for him, and he fucked it up. Suddenly the punishment of Jim's silence feels fitting. Jim sighs. Sebastian can hear it crackle down the line. “Just leave me alone for a while.”

“Okay.”

Jim cuts the call off.

*

He sees Jim in their lectures throughout the week, but Jim keeps to himself, sitting up in the top corner of the lecture theatre. He doesn't show up to tutorials, and he's avoiding the studio. Sebastian doesn't get much work done, constantly coming up with excuses to walk past Jim's station even though he knows he's not there.

It's over a week before Jim speaks to him again.

“You're not blending well enough,” he says, and Sebastian turns swiftly, flicking paint over half his desk. Jim arches an eyebrow at the mess.

“Talking to me again, then?” Sebastian says.

“That does appear to be what I'm doing, yes.”

Sebastian sets his brush down and takes a tentative step towards Jim. Jim observes him silently, but does not move away. Feeling uncharacteristically nervous, Sebastian places a hand gently on Jim's hip.

“I really am sorry,” he says.

“Sorry doesn't do anything for me.”

Sebastian sighs. His other hand comes to Jim's cheek, fingers gently traces the curve of his cheekbone.

“We can get it fixed.”

“I've decided to keep it.”

“What? Why?”

“It reminds me of you.”

“Because it's a fuck up?”

Jim's stoic expression breaks, and he smiles. Sebastian expects the cutting remark to come here, and braces himself. It's unsurprising, really. He's always been a fuck up. He's been disappointing his father over and over since he left the womb, why would Jim be any different?

“No,” Jim says, resting his hand against Sebastian's chest. Sebastian's heart beats a touch faster, as if seeking Jim's attention. “It's unconventional, rebels against expectation.”

“Yeah?” Sebastian sighs, but the corner of his mouth is twitching into a smile. “Sounds like me, alright.”

“And, well, he's aiming away from Scorpius now. Like he's guarding him.”

Sebastian smiles. He dares to move closer, and when Jim doesn't move away, he closes the gap between them and kisses him. He's still annoyed at himself for making the mistake in the first place, but as long as Jim is speaking to him again, nothing else really matters.


End file.
